


After the Kill

by Artemis1000



Series: Cassian Appreciation Week 2018 [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Character Study, Child Soldiers, Gen, Snipers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 15:29:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15440115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/pseuds/Artemis1000
Summary: After the kill, there came the silence.Cassian embraced it like the oldest friend it was to him.





	After the Kill

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 4 of Cassian Andor Appreciation Week to the prompt of "Silence."

After the kill, there came the silence.

Cassian sought it, he always had.

Once, after firefights, he would huddle on a rooftop until his toes were frozen in his snow boots and his fingers too stiff to hold a blaster even in the heavy gloves he wore. He would watch the curling trails of smoke in the industrial district or, always his favorite, would watch the snow fall and cover the greys of his city with a blanket of pristine white.

When there was nothing but the snow and him, he could pretend he was all alone in the world. He could pretend it had been nothing but a bad dream. Sometimes he would pretend the Snowtroopers were nothing but another fairy tale monster like all the other creatures of ice and snow that brought death.

As a soldier of the Rebel Alliance, Captain Andor didn’t have the luxury of hiding, and he certainly didn’t have the time for indulgences.

He had to cover his tracks and get off-world and jot down the first draft of his mission report while the details were still fresh on his mind. More often than he would have liked, he had teammates to meet up with.

Cassian still sought the silence but these days it had to precede the kill.

These days, he found his silence in a sniper’s rifle. He would watch through the scope and wait as snow covered him or the sun glared down on him, until the entire world narrowed down to himself and his rifle, and he was back on that rooftop on Fest, cradled by frost.

He didn’t fear it.

It was a familiar old friend, this silence, oldest and best friend to a man who had long ago decided that keeping quiet did not suit him well.


End file.
